


it's cold out here.

by Anonymous



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Dream SMP - Universe, Flashbacks, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Sad Ending, Self-Indulgent, author likes angst, goatanonworks, no beta we die like quackity — pickaxe through our teeth, pretend this is up to date with canon, techno is pissed, the flashback happened after they blew up everything, what if dream betrays techno's ideals oh? oh??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:55:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28896987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: what if, in some way, dream created a new hierarchy? just after they blew up l'manberg, right in front of technoblade, making him go against all the pinkette's ideals?!!PERSONAS ONLY!! please respect content creators' privacy and boundaries.lowercase are intended.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 131
Collections: Anonymous





	it's cold out here.

**Author's Note:**

> !! if any of the content creator(s) mentioned in this work has said that they are not comfortable with any works like this written about them, i will immediately take this down as well as my other works. !!
> 
> hi, more angst pog?? (i swear i'd make fluff someday, this ship needs more angst) this is completely fiction and definitely not what happened in the canon plot, but think of this more of a headcanon, if you will. i tried putting some up to date canon stuff here though this is mostly just totally fiction :)))
> 
> imagine them with sad-ist's designs on this one! but techno and phil are using their antarctic empire attires :) (because fancy blue clothes and shit whooo) i'm bad at describing clothes so—
> 
> enjoy my yet, another poor attempt at writing~

golden rays of the sunset shine the whole world, it reflects the beautiful white cold soft particles called snow, footprints of a certain owner who is running through the biome are made, his legs are getting numb soon, but he can’t bring himself to care. 

the weather is so cold, he is never used to it, no matter how many times he visits this place—this cold snowy biome. he pants, not stopping his pace of running as he ignores the cold that is prickling through his skin. he didn’t bother wearing layers, he didn’t bother providing himself with more clothes. he didn’t bother stopping.

does he even know where he is running to?

small white grains of snowflakes fall slowly to strands of dirty blonde hair that is peeking out under a green hoodie. his porcelain mask looks horrible—it looks like someone tries to fix the fatal damage with just a regular scotch tape, putting it all everywhere as if they’re on a time limit. his fingers are numb from the cold hours ago, though he didn’t care. pieces of his armor are left somewhere during the road, again, he didn’t _bother._

he doesn’t know if he could run any longer.

then, after hours and hours of travelling on foot, dream finally finds it, the place where a certain anarchist lives, the place where a certain blood god resides, the place where a certain pink-haired man lives—the pink-haired man that dream longed for, that dream is _fond_ of. 

adrenaline started to run out from his body, being replaced by fatigueness, the cold started to numb his whole body now, and he would prefer a nice warm bed to lay down on. despite his exhaustion, his heart flutters, his lips curved into a smile as his foot approaches the house—examining the place. dream could feel a pit in his stomach when he realizes the small cottage speaks no lives living on it. 

the little flame of hope that started to spark immediately replaced by regret, the feeling felt like someone had just punched him in the stomach, then slapped him in the face right after. the dirty blonde was about to leave after letting out a sigh from his throat before his ears picked up murmuring sounds from the back of the house.

“is this the last trip?” the sound said, it appears to be philza in dream’s hearing. and dream was right, it is philza, the man slowly appears, bringing out items from the house, it seems like he was moving out. then a specific pinkette came, following him just behind while gripping on to leashes, one appears to be linked with his beloved horse, the others with a ton of dogs.

“yap, i just need to bring the hound army—oh.” trailed off the anarchist, who immediately stopped his walking as he spontaneously protected phil behind him, his stance betraying nothing as he let out a low growl under his breath after glancing at dream’s figure.

“techno—” dream’s voice sounded hopeful in the cold snowy air, it’s kind of pathetic. the dirty blonde now stood in front of the two people he considered allies before, before he made everyone under his control, before he made everyone against him, before _this_.

“phil, go ahead and bring carl with you,” the blood god murmured, giving his colleague one of the leashes, pushing the grown man’s figure back slightly. “i’ll trail behind later.”

“you sure about this, techno?” the blonde grown man said, noticing the threat in front of them, the guy had the _audacity_ to even show up here after what he did.

with one more weak push to philza’s stance and a reluctant nod from the pig hybrid, blue eyes narrowed to the snowy grass, letting out a sigh as he walks away. he is definitely stopping his tracks—he couldn’t just let the pinkette be _alone_ with _that_ man—not too far away, he could still see their figures, though he wouldn’t know what they’re saying. 

once technoblade feels like philza has been far enough from danger, he finally looks at the dirty blonde properly, straight on his broken porcelain mask with his rage-filled eyes. 

olive-green hopeful eyes trails to examine the other’s appearance, his powder blue long puffy sleeves shirt, with a dark blue sash accompanied by the same color as his cloak—with fluffs in the shoulder blades. touches of gold all over his outfit, not to mention the crown on his head with the long elegant strands of rose pink colored hair tied into a loose ponytail brings the man’s look all together. he looks stunning, even with that intimidating stare. 

“you’re not welcome here,” his voice is low and gravelly, his teeth gritted, and his eyebrows furrowed. the man looks already pissed.

“t-techno—” dream said, moving towards the anarchist while opening up his arms wide, gesturing for a warm welcoming hug, _he needs a hug._

before dream could get one inch closer to the pinkette, said man steps backward, including more space between them two—clearly not wanting the dirty blonde to get close. “state your purpose.” technoblade said, irritated. 

his heart sinks, that stupid annoying pit in his stomach is back again, he hated it. he _hated_ that feeling to the core. it made him feel weak, it made him feel not good enough, it made him feel vulnerable, he _despised_ it. 

“p-please—” he desperately needs that hug. he misses it, he misses it so bad. he misses the way the pinkette always gives tender hugs, protecting him from danger even with the smallest bit of action. he misses the way the taller’s eyes look at him, staring as if dream is the star of the show.

“remember the old times techno, before all of this?” 

dream misses the way the two used to banter, the way they throw snarky remarks at each other, the way the two always bicker at each other at any time of the day. how the two always had _something_ to compete on, how the two secretly cared for the other. “we used to be allies! friends, even! we used to joke around and—”

“why are you _here_ , dream?” technoblade asked, interjecting dream, clearly making sure he does not care one _bit_ . how _dare_ he? acting as if his doings of tugging strings and enjoying the ‘show’ never mattered—sugar coating it with past memories. “weren’t you satisfied with the result of your ‘little games’? weren’t you _happy_ back there?”

silence filled the cold snowy atmosphere, sometimes accompanied by the occasional barks of the many dogs behind the pinkette.

“i-” his throat was dry, he didn’t know what to say. “i came to apologize.”

technoblade smirks intimidatingly, one eyebrow raised as he lets out a mocking laugh. yeah _right_ , as if the pink-haired man would give in to one of dream’s little ‘schemes’

“ _listen—_ ”

“remember what you _did_ , dream?!” the older tighten his grip on the many leashes, cutting off the dirty blonde man again, his temper boiling. “remember how you gain control over _everything_ once again— _drunk_ with all the power you possess?”

and the ruby-eyed man was right. dream did mess up. he was relishing the power he had over everyone, so much so that he wanted _more_ , not realizing that desire is what caused him to be here in the first place. not realizing how much power he already has _before_. 

technoblade remembers exactly what had happened. he _engraved_ it into his brain as he _swore_ to never let anyone use him as a weapon ever again.

**━━━━━━━━━━━━━━**

_everyone always saw him as a weapon, not excluding dream. he knew dream’s exact intentions, he knew that they became allies just for the sake of their mutual goals. he knew dream’s plans for the tnt, he knew dream wouldn’t stop until he reached bedrock._

_what he didn’t know though, is the aftermath._

_gripping his trident tightly, red eyes examines the tied-up severely injured l’manbergians behind dream, carefully being watched by dream’s goons. they’re all standing right in front of the huge ominous-looking prison_ — _or as they called it, ‘pandora’s box’_ — _built with many complicated redstones, making it hard to escape._

_the pinkette could feel rage boiling inside of him, voices exclaiming betrayal and demanding blood as dream explained his plans of ‘punishing’ the l’manbergians. which is just putting them in the inescapable prison_ _—_ _under his control again, sugar coating it and manipulating them._

_basically what dream is doing here is creating a new set of ‘government’ in a way, ruling over them oppressively, like a dictator, but with no country. just very very drunk by the idea of ‘power’ over everyone. creating a hierarchy_ _—making everyone bow down to him and_ only _him._

_“lead them in,” the dirty blonde ordered, making his goons escort the l’manbergians to their respected cells, leaving him alone with technoblade and phil._

_“why” the low growl sound came out more like a command instead of a genuine question._

_“why not?” dream responded, his white mask with the drawn smiley face looks more ominous than ever. it’s as if techno could feel that dream is smiling mockingly behind that mask._

_“techno.” the stern voice of philza minecraft made the pink-haired man’s breath hitch, his teeth gritted and his visions started to grow red as he tightened a grip on his trident. “let’s get out of here.” the grown man continued, hoping that the voices who demand blood haven't consumed him yet, though, it seems he’s too late._

_then, with a swift movement, technoblade clutches his hand at dream’s green fabric hoodie, lifting the dirty blonde up from the ground, his feet dangling while the pink-haired man held his body in the air so easily like it’s nothing._

_“you are making a_ new _hierarchy, dream! making everyone bow to you, controlling them around with your puppet strings and a threat that you’ll kill_ anyone _who disobey!”_

_“putting everyone under your control, restraining them from freedom_ _—”_

_“isn’t that just a tyrant, dream?! isn’t that EVERYTHING i’m against for, dream?!” his fingers tighten so hard that his knuckles turn white. the pinkette is fucking pissed. how could he not? dream betrayed every ideals techno has ever made clear of._

_kill him, hurt him, make him pay, blood for the blood god, blood for the_ _—_

_an insulting laugh could be heard from the masked man, he honestly did not give any care to techno’s ideals, he never did. technoblade is a weapon, a puppet, someone on his show who gives spice to conflicts._

_“see, that’s what makes us_ different _, technoblade” his tone is betraying nothing, he does not feel fear at all, and his mocking gaze behind his mask pierces through the anarchist’ soul._

_“you wanted the government to perish,” the dirty blonde man said, there’s a hint of insult in his voice, “i wanted_ l’manburg _gone.”_

_silence rushes through the three of them, the pink-haired man lets out a low growl again, hand still lifts the green eyed man’s body_ _. the voices started to rang louder. ‘_ _kill him already, we want blood, blood for the blood god, hurt him, make him bleed, stab him_ _—’_

_“i could kill you right here right now,” the pinkette threatened, voices already overwhelming him with their thirst of blood. he saw this coming, he saw the possibility of this happening, but why, why was he so stupid? why was he so reckless? dream has just made him into one of his puppets again, tugging the strings for the dirty blonde’s twisted show._

_“you wouldn’t kill me.”_

_“i could call in that favour at any time, techno” the masked man said, power in his voice._

_with that, the anarchist’s eyes widen, his grip loosen and he drops dream into the ground. voices now becoming louder than ever, they ring_ _—it’s hurting his ears_ _. letting out a defeated huff, the pinkette turns around, ignoring the demands inside his head._

_“let’s go, phil.” a hint of anger could be heard as he stepped out of the scene, grip digging into his trident, followed behind by his blonde colleague._

_the masked man let out a choked cough, smirking triumphantly as he picked up his feet, shoving his hands inside his hoodie pocket, and hauntingly watched the two men who disappeared into the distance._

**━━━━━━━━━━━━━━**

that was _weeks_ ago, weeks before dream realized his mistakes, weeks before dream realized his _flaw_ , before they started to fight back, before he was cornered, before he was _running_ away for shelter.

the pinkette pursed his lips in doubt, voices in his head are surprisingly calm. 

“i may have not trust you wholeheartedly dream, though the fact that you made a new government _exactly_ after we blew everything up—” 

“techno.” dream, with a raspy voice, finally spoke up, after being silent for too long, after dealing with the gut in his stomach, churning crazily as if there’s no tomorrow. 

“you still owe me that favor.” 

a threat. as if the pink-haired man would give in that easily, as if the pink-haired man would immediately aid him. 

though, to dream’s surprise, he could see technoblade’s eyes widen, it drifted away from dream’s gaze, and the anarchist’s head hung low. as if he is actually _doubting_ himself.

not a second later, a loud, insulting, full of mockery rang in the dirty blonde’s ear. he is mocking him again. “ _and?_ i am _not_ one of your little _‘dolls’_ anymore, dream”

“ _everyone_ heard about your downfall dream, the whole smp knows about it.” technoblade pauses, grabbing his trident from his inventory before quickly continuing, “how you fall from your power, how everyone, _even_ your closest friends, tore you apart”

technoblade quirks his lips into a triumphant smile, knowing that dream’s threats did absolutely _nothing_ to him. “why would i bow down to a _person_ with no power?”

he lets out a mocking laugh again, gripping tightly on the leashes of the dogs as he points his trident on the man, a deathly gaze in his piercing eyes.

dead silence fell between them again, it’s so quiet that they could only hear their respective heartbeats. the two seem like drowning out the barks of the many hounds. the silence is, again, broken by technoblade.

“why? why did you come to apologize? for morals? for redemption? future alliance?” techno knows why, the dirty blonde man is going to use him again for help, power, backup, _weapon_.

the masked man took a deep breath, feeling like he ran out of it—he didn’t even realize he was holding them. seeking for shelter isn’t the only thing that convinces dream to apologize, neither does seeking for an aid of help, neither does morality, nor does seeking of hope. 

there’s something _else_ dream needs to say to him.

so he did.

“because of this”

he lunges forward suddenly, his rough movement causing the mask to break apart to pieces considering the flimsy scotch tape. then, quickly, with his vision all blurry, he clutches his hand to grip on the fabric of techno’s shirt. tilting his head, dream proceeds to connect his lips with the other.

the latter doesn’t seem to have expected it—of course he didn’t—and so his eyes widen again that day, stance is balancing the two men because dream is practically limp in his arms. 

_please kiss back please kiss me back kiss me back please kiss me—_

while dream is having his crisis, technoblade didn’t know what to do. he didn't know how to react, he didn’t know how to respond. he felt the same, he _did_ , didn’t he? he _loved_ dream, he remembers the times when dream was his only priority, someone that he treasures most, before that incident happened, _before_ he doubted his feelings.

and thus resulting in the pinkette to awkwardly raise his hands to dream’s waist, relishing in the sweet taste of dream’s lips, enjoying that one part of him who always wanted this moment, that one part of him who _craved_ for this to happen.

before they got deep into it though, technoblade’s pride got the best of him and he pulled apart, letting go of the waist he didn’t realize he'd been gripping tightly. the dirty blonde’s face is now fully revealed, and green lidded eyes stared into the pinkette’s. 

his hand loosen the grip on the fabric, his whole body starts to become limp and his thighs tremble in cold. “i love you, technoblade.” dream breathily said, he could hear the pink-haired man’s breath hitches. 

unable to keep himself standing any longer, he fell on his ankles as he dropped into the cold soft snow. he kept his gaze away from the man in front of him, not wanting to keep eye contact after _that_ confession.

technoblade is now standing there, minds blown, processing what _just_ happened. dream _kissed_ him. he kissed back, _with doubt_ . though what he didn’t doubt is, his ideals. he would never betray his _own_ ideals.

with a bitter feeling, technoblade replied, “i _felt_ the same way”

dream took a sharp breath, hiding his face on his knees, trying so hard to quiet down the whimpers in his throat, begging to be let out. 

several soft barks from the dogs later, a sigh could be heard coming from the anarchist as he put back the trident in his inventory, loosening up his fingers from gripping the leash too tight.

“so long, dream.” technoblade bitterly said. it’s as if his feet is planted to the soft grass, he felt heavy leaving the dirty blonde man at first, but with a deep breath, the pinkette turned around, passing through his colleague philza, leaving the green eyed man alone.

dream finally lets out his whimpers, soft whimpers. the sky is now dark, and he didn’t even realize it. he has nowhere to go, he has no one to help him. the cold wind passed through his fragile body, tired from all the walking. 

the universe just _loves_ to spite him, it is now snowing heavily, drops of snow fall from the sky so very fast that it’s blurry. dream finds himself hugging his own body, hunching his shoulders as it shivers in the cold.

it’s freezing.


End file.
